Moondust

by Sebastian

Rated: slash A

Disclaimer: all characters belong to Gavin Wilding & Greg Sims, and Devin Entertainment/A- Pix Entertainment, Capstone Inc.

Pairing: David/Frank, The Raffle

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Demon drink!

David Lake hadn't appreciated how appropriate the adjective 'demon' was when applied to the noun 'drink', until after the 'Pacific Breeze' air-freshener campaign post-launch celebration in early December.

He supposed he should be thankful that it was only Frank that had heard his confession. He was, after all, David's oldest friend. Maybe the guy got carried away with enthusiasm sometimes, and he didn't have the very best head for business, but at least he cared about David, and hopefully he could keep a secret.

Unless he thought David had been joking, that is. Old Frank liked to share a joke; however just the idea of him hinting at this titbit made David's blood run cold...

~~~~~~~oo(0)oo~~~~~~~

The cocktails had flowed freely in the bar that evening. There was a heavy Hawaiian theme.

Hula music and garlands of flowers... from the table laden with tropical fruit to the suckling pig, from jugs of daiquiri to pina colada, no expense had been spared. David had stuck close to Frank during the party; since the breakup of his marriage a few months back he'd been steering clear of the chicks at the office despite their come-ons. Stupid, really, because it was his inability to keep his hands off them that had lost him his wife in the first place.

Frank wasn't cruising, of course. Though he'd never made a big deal of it, everyone at 'Lake and Palmer Advertising' knew he was gay, and everyone knew he was a nice guy. He never hit on anyone there - kept his private life private.

Unlike me, thought David. Marriage and monogamy; what a joke! He'd made his vows wholeheartedly, but somehow his resolve had slipped along the way. Margot berated him as immature, and he was genuinely contrite about his behaviour... after the event.

The only one who hadn't judged was Frank. He'd been there for both of them.

Midway through the evening David realised just how strong the cocktails were. The garlands and cardboard palm-trees achieved a dreamy look, time seemed to jump abruptly, and he knew he was having far too good a time to be sober. But hell, they'd made a packet, and the whole firm, and their customers had cause to celebrate. Late on, as the lights dimmed to simulate a tropical night, and the glitterball twinkled stars over the swaying dancers, he found himself slumped at a table next to Frank in one of the dim recesses of the hired room.

"'S good, isn't it, David." Frank swept his arm round the room. "Success. Makin' everyone happy an' harming no-one. Seemed like a dream three or four years back. Now look at us... got everthin'"

He took a sip from the straw that nestled amongst the umbrellas, fruit and plastic mermaids in the bowl of his huge frosted glass.

"Everything we ever dreamed of. The world at our feet. Our oyster."

"I dunno that I want oysters round my feet," slurred David, trying to make sense of the swaying room. "Slippery."

Frank put his arm round his friend's shoulders and giggled. "You know what I mean. What more could a man ask?"

"The perfect girl-friend?"

Frank gave him a squeeze. "You've had that more than once, Davey-boy. It's you being the perfect boy-friend that's lacking."

"You wouldn't take me on then, if you think I'm such a loser... "

"Not in a million years, my friend; not even if you were the last guy on earth."

"Hey, that's a bit insulting," protested David with mock indignation. "I'm not as ugly as all that!"

"OK. Well, maybe if you were the last guy on earth. You're telling me that you'd fuck a guy if there were no women left? I don't believe it."

"I'd believe it," said David morosely. "Can't seem to keep my dick in my pants no matter how hard I try... so, if that's all there was, I reckon libido would overcome taste."

"Now who's being insulting?"

"Well, you said it first, Frank."

"Yeah. But it wasn't because of your looks, it's because of your track-record. Even if you were gay, I wouldn't tangle with you. I'd rather keep you as a friend."

"So you do think I'm ugly, then. I don't do it for you. I'm not the type gays fancy?"

Frank drew in his breath with a hiss. "Now, did I say that? You're hot, Davey. Cute, nice body... great ass. I've had enquiries, man, and some disappointed guys crying on my shoulder. Hey, are you just angling for compliments? You're not so drunk that you've got that desperate, are you." He pointed waveringly to the dance-floor. "Get out there. You'd get laid in minutes. I know of at least two girls who'd drop 'em for you if you sneezed in their direction, you lucky bastard."

"But you wouldn't fuck me," he persisted with the single-mindedness that alcohol can induce. "You don't want me... unless the choice was me or... a palm-tree."

"You don't really want to know, do you, Davey?" Frank looked at him a little worriedly.

"Yeah. Look, if it's such a big deal, forget it. Or... " and it was at this point he made that fatal mistake... "or I'll do you a deal. You tell me, and I'll tell you my weirdest sex fantasy. If it's any encouragement, it's kinky." He leered at Frank's raised eyebrows. "Made you an offer you can't resist, pal? C'mon. I won't hold it against you if you confess."

"Maybe I don't want to tell you because there isn't anything to confess, and I don't think your ego could stand the knock-back - what'ya think about that?"

David thumped his glass down on the table and turned to square up to him, swaying slightly as he tried to look serious. "I'm a big boy. I can take it."

Frank leered. "I doubt it, Davey."

David giggled and punched his shoulder. "''N what I was sayin', stupid. I can take whatever you wanna tell me. Go on, I'm not gonna stop asking until you say."

"And you'll tell me a secret."

"A big one." He waggled a finger in his friend's face. "Hu-uuge. No-one else knows 'n the whole world."

"Ok. If you really wanna know, I'd screw you right here, if you were up for it... but I still wouldn't want you as a boy-friend. You'd hurt me. You'd let me down. Some things are certain, and that's one of them. You're my bes' friend, Davey. I wanna keep it that way. If you could be that, 'n we could fuck too, fine. Just fine. There? Are you satisfied now? Ego stroked enough?"

David leaned over and planted a big, wet kiss on Frank's cheek. "I guess. You're the best, man. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Only every time you get drunk." He sniggered. "Look at that... we're being watched."

Across the room Tanya the receptionist, and a girl he couldn't place, smiled and gave a little wave. David waved back and beckoned them over.

"You owe me a confession," whispered Frank.

"Later," said David, out of the corner of his mouth. "I'm about to get my hands full."

The next hour was a blur of dancing and flirting. At the back of his mind there was the disquieting and insane feeling that he'd burnt his boats, but as the crowd thinned and Frank proposed they walk together to the Skytrain station, he was feeling no pain... whatsoever.

Arm in arm they staggered down the street until the window of a store, sparkling with Christmas magic, was alongside. David dragged Frank to a stop and gazed at the display.

"You're missing Margot, aren't you?" said Frank sympathetically, thinking David was anticipating a lonely Christmas.

David shrugged. "Not really," he drawled. "You think I'm a shit, don't you? Well maybe I am. Maybe Christmas is part of it."

He chuckled, skipped unsteadily ahead of his friend and called back, "That's my secret. Christmas!"

"I'm not letting it go at that," Frank told him as he jogged up to David and caught his arm. "'Christmas'? What does that say to me? That you have a fetish about carol singers? That you can't get it up unless it's December? What?"

"Ohh... worse," teased David.

A bar was coming up; Frank didn't hesitate to pull David through the door and tuck him into a booth with a large, dry Martini before him.

"Explain," said Frank. "You're not goin' home 'til you do. You promised me, man."

Well oiled as he was, David still blushed. "I dunno. I've never told... "

"You can tell me... this is Frank! You trust me, all the way. And you promised."

"Mmm." David grunted. The urge to let it out was irresistible. He'd never told a soul; he didn't know if he'd feel better or worse if he did. But, right now, prudence was not even a memory, and Frank was his good, good friend. He could say anything, Frank would understand...

He planted his elbows on the table and said seriously, "This is one of those childhood trauma things, Frank." He burped, shook his head to clear it and continued, "If you laugh, I'm stopping. OK?"

"Ok. I hear you." He clapped his hand on David's shoulder and said, "Fire away."

"I was little when it started." He pulled a face. "I blame my parents. Don' think they'd ever read a book about raising kids. I used to wet my bed back then... must have been about six, I think. It wasn't very often... maybe every couple of months. They'd get really mad, call me a baby."

"That's not uncommon, 'specially amongst boys," grinned Frank. "My cousin Ralph was doing it at nineteen... I know, cos it happened once when we were camping."

"Yeah, well. I got over it in the end - no thanks to Ma and Dad. Their idea of solving the problem was to threaten me. 'Course, that made me anxious, but I was good; I only had a couple of accidents. Unfortunately one was just before Christmas... so? What did they do? They told me Santa didn't give naughty boys anything. Naughty boys like me. Bedwetters."

"I'm beginning to get a bad feeling here... "

"Hold that thought," muttered David. "I tried not to drink. I tried to stay awake. I tried everything a little boy could think of. Clothes pins."

"Clothes pins?" Frank shuddered.

"Clothes pins," confirmed David, wincing.

"It didn't work. It was a lost cause, wasn't it? I woke up early the morning of Christmas Eve, soaked, cold and shivering."

He plonked his elbows on the table, leaned his chin on his hands. It's odd how some incidents stand with awful clarity against the mist of childhood. David Lake wished with all his heart this one would fade.

"I thought if I hid the sheets Ma wouldn't know, then Santa would still come because he wouldn't find out. I bundled them behind the laundry in the basement, got dressed and went to watch TV. Forgot what I'd done until after breakfast time when she found them. Boy did she wallop me. Threatened what she had before... no gifts for Christmas. I think I cried all day."

"That's rotten," said Frank. "Poor kid... " Putting his arm round David's shoulders he swayed against him. The comforting squeeze he intended to give almost flattened his friend as they drunkenly lost their balance.

Laughing as they righted themselves David confessed, "That wasn't the worst of it, I said it wasn't me. I said Santa Claus had done it."

"What!" spluttered Frank, his eyes goggling.

David pressed his lips together and sighed. Franks chubby face had pretty much the same expression as his mother's had had, that day.

"Not very plausible, huh? Thankfully, seeing as I've made my career in advertising, my stories have improved."

"What the hell did she say?"

"Nothing. She fell completely quiet while I tried to explain why he'd done it. I didn't convince her, you know. That was the worst Christmas... "

"No gifts?"

"Eventually. Not on Christmas day, though."

Frank leaned back and sipped at his drink. "Man, that wasn't the confession I was expecting. I thought you promised me somethin' steamy." A burp punctuated his words as he patted his stomach. "Hope I don' regret this tomorrow. I think I had w-a-a-y too much shrimp."

David yawned and stretched. "It was good though. Those caterers always come through... Mmm... I haven't finished yet."

Frowning, he stared at Frank until his silence caused the others eyebrow to rise with an unvoiced question. "Well?" said Frank, shaking his head impatiently. "What more is there? If you're gonna tell me that this means you wear diapers under that designer suit of yours, Davey, I really don't wanna know. I could dedicate my life to avoiding a discovery like that.

"Would you believe it's worse?" David downed his drink and motioned the waiter to bring them a refill. "This is so not a good idea. I should shut up now."

"Oh, no. If it's worse, then I really, really do want to know, David my man. Then, if you're in some sort of trouble, you might be in luck, because I'm about due for one of my brilliant ideas."

"That's it. I'm outta here." David tried to stand, only to slump back dizzily onto his seat. "Whoops," he giggled. "Give me a minute, then I'm gone. This is one thing I don't want you to have an idea about."

"I should just listen?" said Frank. Sincerely, he added, "You know I can do that, you're my bes' frien."

David studied him again. Deep down a little voice implored him to keep his secret safe, but this was his friend, his good friend, with whom he could share even his innermost, most shameful secret.

"I started having dreams," he said softly. "Nightmares, about the story I made up. About Santa Claus."

He leaned in until their heads were almost touching so no-one could overhear. "I'd told Ma that he came into my bedroom with an empty sack, and he said he'd run out of gifts. There were none left for me. But he'd heard what my Ma said; that I was a naughty boy who... Well, you know."

Frank grunted encouragingly.

"So, because he hadn't anything left, and he didn't want the grown-ups to think he was no good at his job, he was gonna make sure that they didn't expect me to get any."

"How?"

"If I had wet my bed, there wouldn't be any presents for me... "

"So, he scared you 'til you wet yourself?"

David's voice dropped to a whisper. "He... stood over me and pee-ed on me, Frank." Then it all poured out in a rush; the secret he'd kept so long burst through the dam, unstoppable in its force. "He did it all over. Drenched me. I could feel it, hot... the smell, the bedclothes growing heavy as they soaked it up. Splashes on my skin. I tried to hide under the bedclothes so I wouldn't see. I begged someone to come in, catch him, drag him away."

"Fuck... " murmured Frank, astonished.

"Then I woke up, in a pool of urine. And Ma shouted, and Dad would... and a few nights later, it would happen all over again."

"That must have been really bad. Really, really bad... what shits your parents were to treat a little kid like that."

"I think that's what the psychologist told them. They took me to one in the end; it got so bad. I suppose it took a few months... it seemed like forever, like things do when you're a kid, but I was cured."

He sat biting his lips for a moment, reliving it. "That's just the prologue, Frank."

His friend took his arm, pulled him round to look into his face. "That's heavy, David. Are you sure you want to talk about it more? If you need to get it off your chest, that's fine - anytime, OK."

"You had enough, Frank?" said David, cynically. His friend lived in the clouds, anything that smacked of reality sent him running for cover. "You'll want to hear this, this is where it gets weird. Part two... the plot thickens."

Frank shrugged. "Sure. If you want to tell me." With a smile he added, "Are you sure I'm man enough to take it?"

"You got me there, pal." David looked away, looked round the room before returning to catch his friend's eyes. "Confession time... "

"I almost - I did - forget about it for years. I grew up, became a teenager. Started thinking about sex, girls... dreaming about them. Like we all do." With a sudden grin, he looked down, embarrassed. "Like most of us do... "

"Same difference, Davey."

"I guess... Anyway, it was coming up to Christmas. I was fourteen and a bit. Hadn't had real sex, but I'd done my share of... petting, I suppose. We got talking about what we hoped to get for Christmas, my little brother and I. He was... oh... seven, then. He talked about how he didn't believe in Santa anymore, but he pretended so that Ma and Dad would still give him gifts. It suddenly made me remember. I had this vivid flash of Santa Claus standing by my bed and I said, 'Believe it, Bren. I've seen him.' I must have sounded serious, because he shut right up. That night I had the dream again, but it wasn't the same."

"So, there are diapers under there," chuckled Frank, scooting his ample buttocks a little way from David's neat ass, earning himself a nudge in the ribs.

"When I said it wasn't the same, it really wasn't." David took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "When I was little, Santa was evil, terrifying. This time... I was scared. I lay, scared out of my wits, but excited, too. In my dream, I was gonna talk to him at last - ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing. Stand up to him.

"He came and stood over me. Started undoing his thick, red trousers. 'Aren't you going to threaten me?' I said. 'Past that, aren't you, David?' he answered. He got his dick out. It was big... heavy."

David looked at Frank under his lashes. He appeared to be mesmerised, his mouth hanging a little open in shocked fascination.

"I took a good look at it, then started to get up. He put his hand on my shoulder, held me back. Did I tell you he had gloves on? Black leather. I could smell the leather. He said, 'Do you really want me to stop?" Boy, he was a big guy. Huge. I think I was seeing him on the scale I remember as a kid, y'know? He smiled at me. His lips were pink and shiny, all surrounded by this silky white beard. Fuck knows why, but I shook my head and lay back down, good as gold. Now, I wasn't so much scared of what he was doing as what I was letting him do, but there were these butterflies in my stomach, too. Anyway, to cut it short, he pissed all over me. I didn't try to hide away. And I woke up wet - but not with urine. With semen."

When Frank didn't speak, David started to pull his coat on, saying, "I shouldn't have told you. Never meant to tell anyone. Drunk... Sorry."

Frank grabbed his sleeve and hauled him back. "Oh no, you don't! I can't believe this, David. You're putting me on, aren't you?"

David leaned in, smiled and asked a little sadly, "Do you really think I'd make that up, Frank? Really?"

"Uh. Guess not. That was it then? End of story?"

"I wish. Ol' Santa was back with a vengeance. He tailed off once the holidays were over, but came back again with my first sighting of Santa's grotto the very next year. I got a stiffie at the sight of a fucking cardboard and tinsel grotto. If I say 'appalled' it comes nowhere near how I felt. My teenage Christmases were ruined by what had become a full-blown fetish."

Frank's eyes were bugging. "What did Margot say?"

"Do you think I'd tell anyone about this? Come on, Frank. I'm just thankful that winter means I can wear a long overcoat to hide my... problem." His ex-wife would be the last to know, he hoped. Basis of a long and happy marriage, knowing your husband has a very odd hang-up. Trust? Openness? No way...

"Are you telling me you spend the whole of December with a hard-on?"

"Virtually." David was twisting uncomfortably in his seat. He was sure he must be blushing; the bar seemed close, airless, and he could feel his groin filling just talking about his fantasies.

"Still?"

"It gets worse every year. Or maybe just more annoying."

Frank wiggled his brows knowingly. "And what have you done about it, Davey? Now I am assured you haven't had Margot let fly."

David wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting, Frank. Margot? She's have freaked, anyhow." He stared down into his glass. "I've never done anything. What could I do, even if I wanted to confirm that I liked this... for real?" His voice dropped to a mutter. "I don't want to find out. I'm happy. Happy just as I am."

"Well." Frank frowned, trying to concentrate with a brain that, strangely, seemed too loose in his skull. "There's people you can hire, no questions asked."

"Dressed up like Santa Claus? I don't think so, Frank."

"Well, maybe not him, but... "

David blew out his breath slowly. "It's him or no-one, Frank. Not Tarzan, not Wonder Woman, not fucking Mother Theresa. Thank god. I don't think I could bear wanting indiscriminate piss on me."

"It has to be the 'Real Thing', huh?"

"Ironic, isn't it?" David stretched himself, aware of Frank's eyes on his body. That was new; he'd never had an inkling of sexual interest from his friend. "Santa Claus is an invention of fucking Coca Cola's advertising men and here I am, another copywriter, with a hard-on as big as the Empire State for their product - or rather their product's product. I just thank god I don't get off having Coca Cola poured on my skin, as well."

"I expect that's to come," said Frank, darkly. "Perhaps the whole thing is symbolic."

"Symbolic of the emptiness and consumerism of Christmas and the superficiality of modern mores and society?"

"Yeah. That sort of shit."

"Wrong. I'm just a sad deviant creep. I ejaculate when a non-existent twentieth century icon of man's greed uses me as a urinal. Christmas sucks. My life sucks."

Frank chuckled. "Everyone has fantasies, David. It's only in your head you can do it with film stars... in zero-g... you can be who you like. I'll admit I'm stunned; I had you pegged as pure vanilla. I didn't even conceive your horizons peeped over a thirty-six double-D." He raised his glass. "Here's to you, and your imagination. Your creativity shines even in deviance."

David took a gulp of his drink and scowled. "Yeah, fine, except most people control their fantasies. This fucking thing runs me, this time of year." "Well then, you should do something about it. Stop being such a wimp. Go for it!"

"We've been here already, Frank." Pressing his lips together he looked away, started to drum his fingers on the table. "I must get home. Enough with the sleaze."

Frank seemed to understand, as he always did. He could be a pain in the ass with his crazy schemes, but as a friend he was beyond compare. He, too, staggered to his feet and arm in arm they wove their way unsteadily homewards.

~~~~~~~oo(0)oo~~~~~~~

Christmas crept inexorably closer and David's peace of mind shredded more as each day passed. There was a chance that Frank hadn't remembered what had been said the night of the 'Pacific Breeze' party; most of that evening was a blank to David himself... except his idiotic confession. That was all too memorable. He found himself watching Frank to see if Frank was watching him, weighing all his words twice for allusions to his peculiarity, and as time passed, though there was no hint that Frank knew, his nerves stretched tight as a wire.

Several parties flitted past. Unattached again, David found himself invited to the more informal ones and omitted from those at which couples drifted, tangled, like weed on a rocky seashore. He wasn't sure which he preferred. It was odd to be regarded as quarry once more, disquieting. The dinner parties with Margot had been relaxed - one could allow them to happen around you; there wasn't the challenge of making an impression with its consequent falseness and strained conversation. Though both types had their share of excitement...

He thought ruefully of the short affairs he'd indulged in behind Margot's back. It wasn't that he hadn't loved her, it was more his inability to resist a chance, a treat. There were plenty of treats to be had in his business, too.

Glamour.

It brought beauty in its wake. Beautiful flesh, beautiful women, often willing to offer inducements to be noticed. And though it was vain, he was aware that many of the men and women that came on to him did so happily because he too was good-looking.

And at last the day of the office party came. Christmas was just after the weekend, so Friday afternoon was designated as an official washout. There were snacks brought in, drinks... Margot had always organised the whole thing; however, this year Frank had stepped in before anyone else had even considered who would take over.

The office was decorated as if by osmosis, starting with odd Christmas cards and tinsel draped on computer monitors, so that by the time the party came almost every nook had its origami angel or sprig of holly. Ridiculous little gifts were purchased by each employee and allocated by chance, a lucky dip. Standing beneath the mistletoe, his ex-wife used to pass them out, demanding kisses from the shyest and presenting her cheek to the libertines.

David had kept a strict rein on his drinking, this time. No risks... no tetes a tete with Frank over the mulled wine. The event grew loud after the prolonged lunch, once they'd returned to the office. More than thirty people were crammed into the reception area, talking at the tops of their voices over the strains of 'Have yourself a merry little Christmas' and other seasonal favourites. Some people were missing, slipping into side-rooms to return flushed and tousled; David wondered if anyone else had noticed - there didn't seem to be another sober person in sight. Except maybe Frank. He looked as if he was keeping up with the others but David had been watching - the man had hardly touched his wine at lunchtime and he was willing to bet the clear liquid in his glass was water or lemonade.

He knew he was twitchy. Who wouldn't be, in his situation? The unspoken secret between them had gnawed at him, the stress making his dreams more vivid, his reactions to Christmas trappings more emotional. He was sure too that Frank was keeping an eye on him at this party. There was something coming - a tingle in the air like static.

Collared by Saxberg, the elderly accountant, David hadn't noticed Frank leave the room. He couldn't miss his friend's return however, as 'Jungle Bells' blared from the player and enthusiastic applause and cheers burst from their employees. Frank was tall... half a head taller than himself, but in the rich red jacket, the hat trimmed with white fur, the high black boots and shiny-buckled belt and the luxuriant silvery beard he was imposing indeed.

David's heart stopped dead in his chest. Frank was handing out the gifts - as Santa Claus.

He wanted to run, to be anywhere but here. He felt himself shrinking, shrivelling and, as the others surged forward to crowd around Frank who stood right under the mistletoe, he held back and let them come between the two of them.

He wanted to slip away, dash home and lock himself in. Hiding under the bed was an option... or perhaps it would simply be better to take a plane to Rio right now? They all expected him to be there though, to stay to the bitter end. There were prizes to hand out... a charity raffle and some jokey awards for best and worst employee. He couldn't leave. It was coincidence; that was all. Frank had this planned for months; it was the obvious thing to do. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing.

Frank beamed around the room, leaned back to pretend to put his hands under his belly and 'Ho-ho'-d. David was almost sure there was no padding there... for Santa, he looked trim under the bulky clothes, though his very size gave him the grandeur needed to draw people's eyes. He laughed, and excitement rippled round the room like a Mexican wave.

"Gather round, everyone, Santa has something for you all."

He wriggled his false bushy eyebrows suggestively and grabbed Dean, the web programmer, giving him a noisy kiss on the cheek. Dean, a keen amateur footballer who was built like a tank, chuckled deeply and lifting an astonished Frank from the floor, swung him around and said, "I hope you've got something special for me, or I might just take you home for Christmas."

There was more applause and a few catcalls as Santa tidied his clothing, pulled his beard straight and said sternly, "In your dreams, Dean my boy."

After that, there was no stopping them. Everyone demanded a kiss from the always friendly, but never before flirtatious Frank. David continued to hang back as the sack of gifts was emptied, hoping that in their inebriated state no-one would notice he had been missed.

"One left," announced Frank, peering into his sack. "Who hasn't had their present? Who's been missed?" He reached deep into its depths and pulled out a small box, then looked at the label. "It's for a boy... What little boy hasn't had his gift from Santa, then? Don't be shy!"

Nobody stepped forward. David felt Frank's eyes boring into him like a gimlet though he stared relentlessly at the sack at Frank's feet.

"Come on, David. You're the last. Step up and receive today's unbeatable special offer."

David's heart fluttered as the crowd before him parted, leaving him a clear view of Frank. His friend beckoned. There was a slow hand-clap as he approached, dragging his feet as if on the way to the gallows. He didn't know how he felt, his stomach churned with fear, yet there was excitement too and an intense uncertainty. Could this be chance? It was perfectly reasonable for Frank to have taken over this responsibility; the costume was almost to be expected. Or was this a deliberate action on his friend's part to tell David he remembered the confession, and was daring David to act upon it?

They stood face to face. Frank's lips twitched through the beard. He looked smug, thought David.

"A kiss for Santa!" shouted Tanya the receptionist, and the cry was taken up by the others. David looked around. He still had no clue if Frank was goading him. He felt trapped now, yet angry. What the fuck, let them have their show; he'd give Frank something to mull over, as well. With a little bow to left and right he grabbed Frank in a tight bear hug and planted his lips on the other man's, keeping them there as Frank struggled. The shocked silence turned to more applause, whistles, and foot-stamping, as Frank tried to push him away.

To his chagrin, he'd been hard from the moment Frank had walked into the room. Whether or not he'd been set up didn't seem to matter to his body, though his mind screamed denial. Unless Frank was a total pea-brain, he couldn't have missed the hard-on. Even through the thick Santa suit David could feel his length pressed against Frank's thigh as they embraced.

Well, he'd burnt his boats now. If Frank remembered the confession, he had proof that David meant every word. If he didn't, he was probably thinking his old friend had the hots for him, for queer sex, and was wondering when the change of orientation had suddenly come over David.

As suddenly as he'd pounced on him, David let his friend go, blushing hotly at letting a show of bravado put him in such an invidious position. Frank blinked at him, breathing hard, then cleared his throat and turned to Dean, saying "Think you can beat that, big boy?"

Dean recoiled in mock horror and pretended to dodge away as Frank advanced, breaking the tension with more laughter. Thankfully, David slipped from the spotlight and retired to the back of the crowd to open his gift.

Within, instead of the whoopie cushion or peppermint penises he'd been expecting, there were a pair of small silver bells tied together with a scarlet bow. Though there was nothing on the wrapping or box to indicate it, David knew this was no random gift. Frank had intended it for him.

What it meant, he had no idea.

~~~~~~~oo(0)oo~~~~~~~

David retired to his office as the last stragglers noisily took leave of each other. He had some papers to gather up and a schematic to pull off the computer... and a couple of days peace and quiet at home to work on them before taking the ferry to the island to his brother's for the holiday, Sunday night.

Just for a few minutes, what had occurred at the office party slipped his mind, but he was brought back with a bump as he looked up from his briefcase to see if he'd forgotten anything and spotted the half-dozen Christmas cards stuck to the magnetic board on the wall opposite. One was from Frank; since his fatal mistake everything from Frank, every word, memo, seemed to have nuances, hidden meanings. David knew it was his own paranoia - it must be. However he couldn't help picking apart every one of Frank's actions in a fever of dread and anticipation.

He'd have to talk this over with him, or he was going to go mad. Maybe Saturday evening, he thought. Frank was due to come over for supper, before they went their separate ways for the holiday. It was a tradition that they'd have a boy's night in before the strain of the family bun-fight - a quiet evening watching old horror movies on TV, playing cards, having a few beers.

Bite the bullet, David. You have to know if he remembers what you said, and if he does, if he believes it. Have to clear the air, because else this is going to undermine your friendship.

He opened the door and was turning to flick off the lights when he heard a scrape and rustle from the office across the hall - Frank's office.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd fallen asleep in there," said Frank dryly. "Or were too scared to come out and face me."

David put his bag down on Tanya's desk and walked apprehensively towards Frank's open door. His throat tightened when he caught a glimpse of red and realised that Frank had put the Santa suit, which he'd discarded earlier, back on.

"I think I'd better get out of here, right now," he stuttered, backing away from his friend.

"Are you saying that wasn't the most blatant come-on I have ever been privileged to receive, Davey? Or are you too much of a wuss to carry it through?"

"It wasn't a come-on. I'm sorry." David sighed. "I shouldn't have done it. I was angry with myself for... you know... "

"I know... what?"

"You know 'what' because you wouldn't have put the fucking costume back on if you didn't." David slapped the doorframe angrily as he advanced into the room.

"There are less spectacular ways of bringing up delicate matters, Frank. If this is your idea of a joke, I'm not laughing."

Frank shook his head as he hitched a hip onto the desk behind him and sat. "Sorry... but it was too much of a temptation. You should have seen your face. Up to then, I had almost convinced myself that I'd dreamed the whole thing."

"Do me a favour, go on thinking that, buddy - please? The last few weeks have been hell on Earth. I've felt like I've been walking around naked ever since I told you. Christ, I should have kept my mouth shut. How could I have been so dumb?"

How could Frank be so much at ease with this? He was sitting there with a little smile peeping through that beard for all the world as if this were the most normal thing ever.

"Oh, for goodness sake, this is just my way of saying I'm cool with your peculiarities. To be honest, I'm glad you're not Mr. Yuppie incarnate, David. OK, you have relationship issues, but I'd rather think of you as mixed up than the total bastard you usually seem where women are concerned."

"Well, thank you!" expostulated David. "It's nice you know you have such a high regard for your friends."

"If I can't be honest with you, we might as well not be friends." Frank looked down, then sighed seriously. "As if you've been honest with me, David?"

"For pity's sake, you must have fantasies, Frank? How many people do you share them with?"

"Not you, that's for sure." He pulled off his white beard and wig and threw them on the desk beside him. "The only reason I dressed up like this is because of my own secrets... Damn. If you remember telling me you're a piss pig, you must remember me saying I'd jump you given the tiniest encouragement, Davey."

"A what? No, don't explain, I can imagine. If you remember that, you remember it was all in my mind, and it's going to stay that way, friend."

David shivered. Though the room was over-warm, he felt as though ice water had been poured down his spine. This was getting way too near the mark, way too challenging. "You know that if you... want to... damn." He continued awkwardly, "If you want me, I'll do it, Frank. Just tell me." He couldn't look his friend in the eye, though in his heart he knew his offer was sincere.

Frank stood and stalked over to David, louring at him. "I'm not into pity fucks, thank you."

"What the hell's this, then?" said David, incredulously, tugging at the red serge of Frank's costume.

"Oh, Davey." Frank's voice was rich, creamy. "If you could have seen yourself when I appeared. That's what I want. From you, from anyone. You looked desperate, abandoned. Your face was so full of need... The expression you dream of getting when a consumer sees the perfect ad... " He leered

"Give me a break."

"Why should I?" said Frank, bitterly. "It's what I dream of, Davey. It's how I want you to look at me. It's why I gambled on this." Arms flung wide, he shook himself. "Look at me, for goodness sake. Look! I don't do this... I can make an idiot of myself without the stupid gear. It comes naturally. I wore this to see you looking at me with lust in your eyes... " He grimaced, turned aside. "Lust! You were almost incandescent. If you 'd ever looked at me like that, I'd be a happy man."

"So, you'd do anything to get me. That's what you're saying," sneered David.

He was answered by a stinging slap. "You glib bastard." Frank's face flushed. "If you think I'd lay a finger on you... Is that your idea of me? I couldn't touch you, if I didn't think you wanted me." He paused, drew breath. "But my principles are flexible enough that if you're turned on by a weird kink which I can fulfil, acting it out won't make me feel cheap."

"It'll make me feel like shit, though," muttered David, rubbing his face. "You don't want this - it's not your preference. I'd end up... hell, feeling that I owed you something. Something I couldn't repay." His mouth twisted as he tried to make sense of both his outrage, and the almost mesmeric need to walk silently to Frank, drop to his knees before him, let him take charge. "And it's not me, Frank. It's not who I am. It's not who I want to be, damn you. It's dirty. It's degenerate."

He looked at his friend, but the face before him was placid, expressing only patient interest. "It's inside you. Indulging your need may do some good, you know. Perhaps you have trouble relating to women just because you have this secret, unfulfilled desire. I don't think it's dirty or degenerate, just kinky fun. If I can do you a good turn by making your dreams come true, I'm happy to do it. In the long run... or maybe the first time it happens for real, the attraction of being pissed on may just vanish. Who knows?"

"So this is therapy you're offering now?"

"If I said yes, I'd be the biggest liar in the world. I'd like to do it, because I'd like to see you get your rocks off, David. There? Happy now?

"So... it would be a pity fuck then, just like you said my offer was. You'd compromise yourself to give me pleasure."

"For heaven's sake, it would give me pleasure to give you pleasure, David. We'd be doing each other a favour. I don't find the idea of pissing on someone distasteful, but I can't say I'm interested either. However, if you were on the receiving end - heck, I don't know how it would leave me feeling."

David was silent for a moment, deep in thought. Frank's words were reasonable, he found himself twisting them around, applying them to his own feelings for Frank, and Frank's for him. "I... I haven't had time to think this through," he began haltingly, his words spoken softly - as if it were too radical a concept to be spoken aloud, "but I think that's what I was meaning, in a way, when I offered to have... sex with you a moment ago. It's not the same of course; but it wasn't a pity fuck, it was because you are my best friend and... I love you, man. I want to give you... a present that you'd really want."

"Except it wouldn't be what I wanted unless I saw you wanted me. It'd probably work, sure. But it would be superficial. I think accepting that offer would drive us apart, not bring us closer."

"Me too, with you acting out my fantasy. Plus, as I said, it's not who David Lake is. He is a young, upwardly-mobile advertising executive. Clean, honest... " He gave a quick grin. "Straightforward. Dark, deviant sexual twists don't belong in his lifestyle." His face set into stubborn lines. "That's all there is to it. I just have to deal."

"Self-image can be moulded, David. We do it all the time, you and I... and every other person working in advertising. You need to be in the right mindset. You need to become the person who can do what you want to do, and get what you want packaged to be acceptable. We sell dreams all the time, I can sell you yours. You'll see."

David laughed reluctantly. Frank's words had sent a surge of heat right through him; he could do without feelings like that, especially when dread followed right along behind.

"Leave it, please - for now. I need to think all of this over. I feel like I'm drowning in an ocean of emotions, temptations... "

"I have an idea." He stood and walked over to David, placing a hand on his shoulder. The kindness in his eyes was bottomless; David's protest died in his throat. "Don't worry, Davey. I've thought this one through, thoroughly. Tonight was simply... a customer survey. I'll see you tomorrow, and make sure you have those bells."

"And that would be because... ? Damn. I'm so mixed up, I feel like a fucking teenager. Why don't we cancel tomorrow? Please? Chasing this could screw things up between us forever, and I really value your friendship, Frank."

Frank gripped David's arms in his ample hands and smiled. "Tomorrow goes ahead, Davey. There's no going back, things have already changed - you can't put the genie back in the bottle. I'll be there at eight, as arranged." He breathed in deeply and searched the other's face. "I've been thinking this over, but, if we discover my idea freaks you out, we'll find a way through this some other way."

David bent his arm to put his hand over Frank's where it rested on his biceps. "If I get what I want, you get what you want," he said earnestly. "Promise me. Promise me!"

"It wasn't factored in, David."

"I don't know what you're thinking, how you aim to wrap this up, but if you are gonna fulfil my fantasies then we take care of yours too, or it's no deal. Understood? You promise?" The passion in his own words shocked him profoundly. He'd just asked another man to make love to him... insisted on it, and knew he'd carry it through, and do his damnedest to make it the best fuck Frank had ever had. His eyes were stinging; he wouldn't cry. He couldn't...

Swallowing hard, he said carefully, "I'll go now. See you tomorrow. After Christmas, we'll still be friends. I know it."

Without another word, he picked up his briefcase and fled for home.

~~~~~~~oo(0)oo~~~~~~~

He lay awake almost until dawn, acting out in his mind how the coming evening would go. A dozen times he nearly rose to leave a message on Frank's machine prior to running, a day early, for the island; a dozen times he changed his mind, knowing the situation had to be resolved. If only he'd kept his mouth shut. If only Frank had forgotten. If only this craving would leave him...

The day crawled past, then suddenly it was time and David wasn't prepared.

Practically, he was. The fire was banked, glowing cosily. The tree, a custom now since Margot had entered - and left - his life, twinkled silver and blue in the corner. The snacks were ready in the kitchen. He was dressed... a minor miracle, he'd hesitated so long over the choice. As if this were a date, he thought.

Which it was. There, that was the heart of his unreadiness. He looked over at himself in the long mirror by the tree and trembled. Sure, he looked the same. His hair, softly shining, expertly trimmed, brushed his high forehead. The dark, silky shirt he'd put on flattered his broad shoulders and flat stomach. The pants hung beautifully, creased in only the right places. But his eyes, huge and eerily verdant in the spot-lighting, looked lost, terrified.

It shouldn't be like this, this visit with Frank. It should be the most natural, relaxed thing in the world, as it had been forever between the two of them. It was all wrong.

The buzzer sounded a couple of minutes after eight. Tightly clutching the little bells he'd been given as if they were a talisman, hand deep within his trouser pocket to hold them, David went to the door and flung it open. On the threshold stood Santa Claus, smiling with Frank's mouth, blinking at him with Frank's eyes. Despite his panic, David managed to notice that Frank had done his make-up properly this time. The beard and wig were perfect, almost real, the outfit, well-made, fitted to perfection. Not how he'd been dressed yesterday. His stomach fluttered strangely and he waited, dumbstruck, until Frank said gently, "Are you going to let me in, David?"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah, come in, Frank."

He stepped back. As the red-suited man passed through, he said firmly, "Not Frank. I'm Santa Claus tonight. Remember that, my boy."

So that was how it was going to be... from the start, the illusion was to be established. Swallowing hard, he replied, "Yes, Santa. I'll remember."

"Close the door," Santa told him. As he did, Santa reached out a black-gloved hand and dimmed the lights until the illumination was provided only by the tree, the fire and the half-dozen tall white candles that David had lit on impulse at the last minute.

"The room looks beautiful, David." Frank's voice was a little shaky, David realised with horror he wasn't as confident as he pretended to be. He couldn't do this without him, without Frank's lead, but in his heart he was desperate that this encounter should go forward, to complete now it had begun, for to abort would leave everything so much worse. He'd have to make this as easy as he could for his friend. Support his make-believe. Frank loved him; whatever he had in mind he was doing it for David.

"Thank you. I... I wanted to make your visit special this year, Santa."

"That's good, because this year is a little different. I've brought you a present, it's special too." From behind his back Frank brought a sack and reached into it. "I made sure that there would be enough gifts to go round for everybody, this time." He pulled out a box, elegantly wrapped in black and gold, then placed it on the coffee table by the couch before returning to stand in front of David.

"Santa... sir. I don't know how to repay you. I didn't expect... " The more David looked at Frank, the more majestic, imposing he seemed. He should have looked ridiculous. David should have felt like giggling, instead the scene seemed more serious, more full of gravity than was possible. The man was as huge, overwhelming, in his bright suit and full beard, as the Santa Claus of his dreams. He wasn't jolly, or a friendly buffoon. He had a solemn dignity, which was benevolent yet required respect.

He sat abruptly on the couch back; his legs had simply given way beneath him. As he turned his eyes back up to meet those of Santa, the other smiled at him kindly and said, "Don't you deserve a present like all the other boys?"

"I'm... I haven't been very good this year, sir. I don't know if I do."

"It's not up to you to decide though, is it, David? That's my job."

"Yes. You're right. You know best."

"I do. Remember that too, David."

David nodded, cleared his throat nervously and asked, "May I open my gift, sir?"

"You must prepare yourself, first."

David's heartbeat, already rapid, seemed to double. "Sir?" He blinked in confusion, looking over at the parcel, then back at Santa Claus. As he did so, the reality of what was happening struck him like a blow and desire, like a huge, blazing hand, brushed his groin, sent goosebumps rippling across his body.

"The gift isn't for David Lake, partner in 'Lake and Palmer Advertising'. Take him off, boy."

David's mouth opened and he tried to speak, but didn't know how to reply. Santa seemed to think he should know what to do, but thought had fled, taking logic and consequence with it. After some moments the other put a gloved hand under his elbow and urged him back to his feet, watching him carefully.

How could he take off his personality, who he was... what he had become? But hadn't he half done so already by participating in this make-believe? Frank had used a costume; perhaps he was to do so as well. Tentatively he put a hand to the top button of his shirt and Frank gave a sigh. This was it then, he was to undress.

He opened the front of his shirt and undid the cuffs, but didn't take it off immediately. It seemed a big step to expose so much of his bare flesh to Santa's eyes. With a self-conscious smile he bent to remove his socks... he hadn't bothered to wear shoes... then stood straight again to discover how Frank was watching him. Frank looked him straight in the eye, and continued to do so as David put his hands to his belt and slipped it free of the buckle. With sudden determination, David undid and removed his trousers. Lingering over them would just look as if he was drawing attention to his arousal. He couldn't hide the hardness tenting his boxers, but he didn't need to proclaim it. However, Frank wasn't looking there, he was watching David's face, his lips parted just a little, and an odd mixture of disbelief and craving in his eyes.

He's looking for the lust, the total immersion in this fantasy we both need to make this work, thought David in surprise. He's as scared of this as I am. I need to bolster his confidence, take the lead, perhaps. I need to open myself to what I really want.

"I'm frightened to go further, sir," he whispered. "Will you help me?"

Frank cleared his throat. "This must be your choice, David. This is your chance, your only chance. You can stop now, I'll leave; go on a little more, and there's no turning back. You realise that?" His voice was stern. David's legs felt like jelly, but the heat in his belly was nearly unbearable. Perhaps if Frank had touched him, helped him with his garments, he'd have climaxed and the whole terrible, splendid dream would be over before it had begun.

"I want to go on, Frank... sir." Licking his lips nervously, he slid his shirt from his shoulders and added it to the pants and socks which he'd laid over the back of the couch. He shivered convulsively, looking to the other for approval with a lift of his brow. Santa nodded curtly. David slid his thumbs inside the elastic of his boxers and pulled them off quickly, before he could change his mind.

It was done. He stood, fear and longing knotting in his gut, trying to keep his hands at his sides so as not to betray his determination by hiding himself from the object of his fantasies.

"Have you got the little bells you were given yesterday?"

"Um... yeah." He turned round and fished them clumsily from his pocket, dropping them on the floor in front of Santa's boots where they landed with a gentle chime. He squatted to pick them up, and as he grasped them his knuckles brushed the soft black leather of one of the toecaps. His fingers stretched out to caress.

What the fuck am I doing? he thought, panic-stricken. I'm crouching naked at Frank's feet with my dick rock-hard, about to make love to his fucking boots! He froze, gulping for air, searching for calm. David... he's brought you this far, he told himself. You got down here without even considering how it looks. Stop worrying, analysing. Let it happen. There was a touch on his head, a hand stroked his hair gently, and slowly he let himself lean against Frank's leg as the hand petted him, calmed him. Frank understood... David's heart slowed, was full of love for this man.

Murmuring, "It's OK... " he got to his feet and held out the silver bells on their red ribbon. Frank... Santa Claus... took them, dropping them into his pocket.

"Are you ready, David?"

"Yes," answered David with a nod and a brave smile. Frank opened his arms, David walked into them and hugged his friend hard as the other's woollen-clad arms enfolded him, rasped strangely across his bare back. "Thank you, Santa Claus. I'm honoured that you should do this for me."

He stepped back with new resolve, then seductively passed his hands down his belly, over his thighs, deliberately finishing by gripping and stroking his cock and balls, looking into Frank's face the whole while. Frank's eyes widened; a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Now comes the magical bit, that only Santa himself can do," said Frank, tugging a canister from his pocket and shaking it vigorously. "After this, you are the David of your dreams, the David that belongs to Santa Claus; David Lake will be gone for a little while."

"That's what I want," confirmed David. "Please, whenever you like."

"Close your eyes, boy."

There was a hiss, then liquid sprayed him, cooling as it evaporated and dried, puckering and tugging his skin as it did so. David heard the rustle of Santa's clothing and the creak of leather as he walked round, covering his entire body with the mist. Santa placed a hand on his back, saying, "Bend over a little" and when he did his ass-crack, his inner thighs and the back of his scrotum were coated. It felt as though a thousand downy feathers were sweeping over his skin.

"I've finished. Come over to the mirror and look at yourself."

The man before the mirror was him, yet it wasn't, thought David in wonder. Frank had stayed in the background, he was only a shadow; David felt alone with himself. To one side, his skin glowed, ruddy with light from the fire, to the other, it was silvered, ethereal, dappled with the twinkling light from the Christmas tree. And all over, he sparkled. From top to toe a sheen of glitter hung over him, as if a cobweb of dewdrops had been flung over him.

"What have you done to me?" he said softly.

"I've sprinkled you with the magic dust that makes dreams come true."

"With moondust," laughed David. "You've covered me in moondust."

"You look beautiful," said the voice behind him, so quietly that it might have been the sound of an angel's wing.

"I don't look like David Lake, for sure," he replied, his eyes darkening as the figure of his dreams loomed behind him. As he was barefooted, Santa in his heavy boots towered over David; from the breath of his shoulders to the magnificence of his silver hair, he made David feel slight, although, in truth, David was a well-built man.

He passed the present to David. "You can open it now."

David tugged at the bow, which untied easily. The wrapping fell to the floor. He lifted the lid from the box and pulled aside the tissue. There, nestling within, were a set of wide, scarlet leather straps lined with soft white sheepskin. David's stomach did a somersault.

"Christ!"

"What David are you?" asked Santa, looking at David in the mirror from over his shoulder.

"The one in my dreams," said David unsteadily.

"That's right." Santa reached round to select the longest strap then placed it against David's neck, pulled it around and buckled it firmly, but not tightly. The collar was at least a couple of inches wide, its glossy red shocking against his skin, like a bizarre wound. Silver rings hung from the front and back, from the sides. Its edge pressed into his flesh as he turned his head.

The box in his hands trembled as Santa removed the two shorter straps and buckled them securely around his wrists. They, too, had stout rings dangling from them. Lastly, Santa lifted an open padlock from the box, motioning David then to put the box on the floor.

As he stood up, looked again in the mirror, he could hardly believe himself to be real. He shimmered; a slim, beautiful young man with the face of a sprite, with wide set eyes whose green was almost lost in the darkness of his desire. He looked at his wrists, his throat. The leather adorned him, bound his unearthly form for mortal use. He was finally lost, mazed in the dream.

"Put your wrists behind you," said Santa Claus. Unquestioning, he obeyed. The click of the padlock signalled his helplessness. He leaned back against Santa's broad chest with a sigh, preening like a cat as he felt Santa's gloved hands pass over his body, brush against his genitals.

Santa took the bells from his pocket and, after removing the red ribbon, passed their loop through that on his collar.

"First, you are going to fulfil the promise you insisted Frank took from you, to make his fantasies come true. Then, when that's all done, we'll take you into your dream again but a thousand times better. David Lake will envy the David of his dreams from now on, boy."

"Yes... "

Santa Claus led him round before the fire. He could feel the heat on his skin. The silver bells jingled as he breathed, swallowed. He was so exposed, so vulnerable. He was scared, yet crawling with anticipation. Santa sat down on the couch, pulled David onto his lap, leaned him into the corner and kissed him. The lips on his own were tentative at first, but David probed with his tongue, opened himself and was rewarded with a thorough, cruel kiss that left him gasping. It was strange to be the weaker, helpless one. Strange, but exhilarating, to let another have control. Strange too, to have all that beard tickling his face, surrounding his bare skin like a cosy nest. A leather-gloved hand passed over his thigh, without conscious thought he parted his legs, let Santa cup his balls, feel for his anus and circle it minutely.

Several minutes passed before it occurred to him that he was making out with another man as if he'd been doing it all his life. The powerful arms around his body felt right, the strong thighs under his own... and something else. A thick hardness that could only be another man's penis was under his ass. Heart speeding again, he wondered where this was leading. There was probably only one place... and he was a virgin to that. Rather than killing his interest, he felt his cock throbbing anew, harder, if anything, than before. He had been sold the dream... Until the act made it real, he'd believe it.

"Would you like to fuck me, Santa?" he whispered as the others lips released him at last.

"Yes, but I was going to anyway." Santa's voice was thick with lust. "In this dream you are mine, David."

"You mean, I have no choice?"

"I've claimed you now. You wear my bonds. You have no choice but also you have no blame, if the other David disapproves."

"You've made the offer to good to refuse. You've covered all bases. Thank you."

"My friend Frank knows his stuff, David. Get up boy. I'm going to have you, right now, before this fine hard-on goes to waste from over-excitement."

He pushed David to his feet and unbuttoned his fly as David watched, scared but fascinated. The cock he extracted was fat and long; David's heart was in his throat as he imagined it inside him, stretching him, pushing aside his innards to accommodate itself. But he'd insisted on this, without carrying this through he couldn't justify the core of his own fantasy. Somehow, now it was upon him, now he'd enjoyed Santa's caresses more than he could possibly have imagined, he was almost looking forward to it.

Santa pulled him back down, lying over his lap this time, as if he were going to spank David. David felt the cock, warm and silky against his stomach. A glove was removed, there was a pause, then a slicked finger slid up his crack, pressed gently against his hole and breached him. It was almost an anticlimax, it was so easy. However the finger slid in further, touching something that made him yelp, the sensation powerful enough to almost tip into pain. He knew Santa had touched his prostate; he didn't know if he could endure it, he was so aroused he feared the slightest thing might make him come.

"Please, Santa Claus, take me right now. Screw me, if you're going to. I don't think I have the control to hold it, if you do that."

"I wanted to relax you a little. It may hurt less."

"I assumed it would hurt, I haven't done this before."

"I know that, Davey," he chuckled. "If you don't resist, it'll be uncomfortable, but shouldn't really hurt. You won't be injured... you'd be surprised how your body can stretch."

"Just do it then, please. I want it, more than I thought I possibly could. The thought of what you are going to do is making me horny. I'm surprising myself, here."

"Good. It makes it better for me, knowing that. But how I'm taking you won't be easy. You said to make it Frank's fantasy, so that's how it will be."

He had David straddle him, face to face, a knee either side of his thighs as he sat on the couch. With his wrists locked behind him, David couldn't balance and had to depend on Frank's arms to support him as he slowly lowered, then impaled himself painfully on Frank's cock. Inch by inch, it was swallowed by his body, his anus impossibly tight around hardness that felt pitiless. His teeth gritted as he forced himself down to the root, his own erection lost within the burning pain. Yet despite all, he was excited, buoyed by his own submission and impotence. It fitted into his own fantasy, enhanced what was to come.

Sheathed at last, Santa guided David into a rhythm, thrusting up with his hips as David's ass bobbed above him. David studied his friend's face, the building flush, the slackness of abandon as Frank's excitement reached its climax. The relentless pistoning slackened him within a couple of minutes, and as Santa shuddered to a climax David found the initial discomfort passing and the weirdness and wantonness of his situation starting to raise his cock once more.

He fell onto Santa's chest with a moan as the other relaxed, his legs protesting their position. Santa pulled his head up and kissed him deeply, kneading David's buttocks with his powerful hands.

"How did it feel to be fucked, to be tied while someone screws you, Davey?" murmured Santa.

"Frightening. Extraordinary. I think it'd work for me, if I did it a few times. I've never tried bondage let alone... you know... "

"Doing it with a guy?" Santa laughed. Or was it Frank? It was all so strange; reality was blurred.

He needed Santa's help to stand; his legs were thoroughly cramped. His turn now, he realised with renewed trepidation. They'd come to the crux, the purpose of this drama. Santa pulled his gloves back on as David stretched his legs, flexed his shoulders as well as he could in his bonds.

"Come here, boy," growled Santa, lacing his fingers to settle the black gloves into place. David walked over to him, realising with shock that the dampness he felt between his thighs was Frank's spunk oozing from his ass. His cock twitched in perverse appreciation. Santa placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him still while he hefted David's genitals as if he were inspecting a piece of livestock. David's cock was filling fast, becoming hot, throbbing in Santa's firm grip.

"You know what I need now?" said Santa.

David licked his lips.

"Say it, boy."

"To pee?"

"To what?"

"Um. To urinate, Santa?"

Santa smiled. "That's right, David. I've come to like visiting you. You like my visits, don't you?"

"No... I... " The denial was automatic, but he found it was what Santa wanted to hear. Santa's hand trailed up to cup David's chin, forcing his head back.

"You mustn't lie to me, David. I know anyway."

David trembled. Frank was gone now, there was only the formidable symbol of Christmas before him. He looked up into Santa's face, seeing the man who had haunted his sleep, brought dread yet terrible pleasure. "I want you to come to me, but I feel bad afterwards. Dirty."

"Could Santa Claus do anything bad? Be truthful, boy."

David hesitated. "No. Of course he couldn't. He's a good person. You're a good person."

"So why, when you see me, do I piss on you, David? Is it my choice?"

"No," he whispered reluctantly. "I started it, because I wanted it from you. Later, I kept on, because I... liked it."

"There, that's the truth, isn't it, David?"

David dropped to his knees and looked up pleadingly at the tall figure before him. All his life the jolly man had been the personification of his own, most hidden, most loathed desires. He'd blamed Santa Claus, as if a myth could have forced this upon him. It was what he himself wanted. If his fantasy was bad, debased, then he must blame himself, or come to terms with his need.

"Please Santa," he begged. "It's what I want. I want it most of all... and you bring people what they want, don't you?"

"Only if they're good, David."

David closed his eyes, feeling the tension in his body. The pure chimes of the tiny bells as he moved refused him distance, chained him to the present. Restrained thus, he was helpless to hide; his physical condition was raw, urging his mindset along with it. He turned to the side before he opened his eyes again, so that he wouldn't have to look at Santa.

Instead, his image in the mirror confronted him. The shadows painted him as stark as some minimalist sculpture. Black traced his lines, the surfaces sparkling with pin-points of white light. He was abstract, inhuman, yet behind the horror of himself was the familiar, welcome figure, clad in red and white. It was as if a diabolical shadow was cast over the conventional image of Christmas. Perhaps that's as it should be, he thought.

Christmas is about poverty, self-sacrifice, redemption. But that's not what I am sullying. That's not the interpretation I crave. He realised then that his infant terror had somehow been turned by his adolescence into exploitation, of his self, of all men. It was the god of Mammon that possessed him, abused him, and as his acolyte he welcomed it.

'I made myself into David Lake.' It blazed in his mind like neon over the desert. 'I made him as an offering to my god. My god has had his sacrifice, now I am entitled to a reward.'

David looked back up into Frank's eyes briefly. He was glad now that it was Frank, he hugged the thought to him, to keep his heart warm.

"Please Santa, please piss on me. It makes me feel so wonderful. Let it pour over me, let me taste it... please?"

"My boy, dear David, of course... "

Then it started. The smell came to him an instant before the first warm drops splashed on the crown of his head. The smell of humanity, of himself, of all those he loved.

He arched back, his chest a rainbow as the golden droplets splattered on it, shattered, refracted the myriad tiny lights, split them into an infinity of pure colour. The liquid on his skin was warm as honey, sunshine pouring over his chest, his belly; taking his cock in Apollo's hand and milking pleasure, perfection from his soul.

With a sharp cry he tilted forward. Extending his tongue, David tasted the nectar, then tilted back so that the stream would fall into his mouth. Greedily, he swallowed as fast as he could, but the bulk of the liquid overflowed, poured like lava down his neck, a heat that drenched his groin, seized him in a fiery grip, palpated his ruddy cock until he thought he could bear it no more.

He had been gulping down his god's essence, filling his stomach with the sacrament, bloating himself with the magical liquid, but more was required. The heat from the golden stream soaked into his body and suddenly it was unendurable. He strained, struggled against the bands on his wrists. He had to touch himself, caress his manhood as the mystical stream drenched him with its power.

He could not.

Desperately, he stretched upwards, spreading his bent legs to brace himself as he followed the fragrant liquor. The golden sparks bounced on his face and caught in his brows, held impossibly on his chin and cheeks before dripping to join the pool around his legs.

"Santa... please. I need to finish it. I need to... please, release me."

"Let it go, David. Let it go... " sighed Santa. And as the last drips plopped onto his lips the tightness gripping him slithered from his heart and gut to his groin, sent a spasm that pierced, then uncoiled at last. He keened as his pearly seed boiled out, mingled with the fluid that drenched him, that poured hot, brazen, onto the floor.

"Oh, oh... god... yes... " Half-words formed and flew from his mouth as impossible pleasure ripped through his body, threw him wrung out and spasming to the ground.

~~~~~~~oo(0)oo~~~~~~~

The logs on the fire crackled. He could hear himself breathing. The rug was warm beneath him, damp; his nose was buried in the wet musk of Frank's piss. He should have been revolted now it was over; instead he was at peace, more contented and tranquil than he could ever remember, happy to lie, helpless, soaked, at his friend's feet.

He was free.

A tear of gratitude trickled down his cheek, he drew in a shuddering breath, then stroked his face on the carpet to remove it and to press his skin into the water Frank had bathed him in, once more.

A hand took hold of his collar and pulled him back to his knees. He kept his eyes downcast as he felt a blush creep over him. Now was the reckoning, the aftermath. Now he and Frank had to find a new level, a basis to be friends.

Santa slipped a gloved hand under his chin once more. He could smell the leather, just as in his dreams. "David... David, look at me."

His eyes fluttered open. He could feel his too-long lashes clinging with the wetness and smiled. He had done it, and survived. And it had been every bit as wonderful as he had imagined.

"Thank you, Frank. My dreams didn't compare with what you have done for me tonight. It was the best gift I have ever had."

Frank knelt before him, traced David's cheek with the tips of his fingers and said, "I couldn't have ever dreamed of this, Davey. Not in a million years. You don't know how relieved I am it worked out... "

He reached out and detached the silver bells from David's neck. "These go with me. I'll... leave them on my desk. If you need this again, take them. I'll know. We needn't ever speak of this - unless you want to, Davey. It'll be just like before, OK?"

"How can it be?" David smiled dazzlingly. "How can it ever be like before?"

Frank shrugged, and for the first time that evening couldn't meet David's eyes.

"If you want change, it's up to you." He rose, pulled a tiny key from his pocket and dropped it in front of David. "For the padlock," he added gruffly, then walked to the door.

"The future is up to you, David," he said again, as he opened the door. "Please, just be kind to me."

With that, he was gone.

End

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